


John Egbert: Paranormal Scientist

by stridaves



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Kinda, M/M, this is horrible i am so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stridaves/pseuds/stridaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>don't even read this christ</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Egbert: Paranormal Scientist

You would say that you have a shot, but you really don’t.

It’s almost pathetic how many times you tried to talk yourself into saying something to him, ‘just say hi, the worst he can do is reject you.’

Rejection.  That thought terrifies you.

He doesn’t owe you anything. You ride the same bus, go the same route everyday, and he gets on two stops after you do, and gets off a stop before yours. You’re free to stare with your shades, looking nonchalant, ear buds plugged into your mp3 player, seeming as if you don’t have a care in the world in that moment, simply relaxing on the bus. But you do care. You care about him and his inky black hair and lean build and oversized glasses and eyes that seem too blue to be possible. You don’t even know his name.

Fate is not something that you really take kindly to. It all seems stupid to you, having a ‘bigger picture’, having a destiny; bullshit. You’re all motes of dust trying to make your way in this dog eat dog world and some people come out on top, some don’t, and it’s all about luck. It’s not like you’ve never considered your life having possible meaning, though. You don’t know what attracts you to this boy, but there’s this pull. Fate? You don’t know. Young adult hormones going on overdrive at the sight of an attractive man? Possibly. You’d like to think it was more than that, though.

Today was just like any other day. He gets on the bus, you ogle at him (subtly, of course, people like you don’t ogle at anyone). You trace his features, his eyes that look painted on and his seemingly untamable bed head. You let out a sigh of either relief or disappointment when he walks off, you’re not sure which one. Two minutes later and you’re standing, moving through the maze of legs and bags to get to the exit, always astonished you don’t fall flat on your face in the process. You set out, bright red backpack slung over your shoulder, and you start your way down the street, four minutes of walking away from your classes.

You’re an art student, majoring in photography. You’d been photographing and sketching since you were around twelve, though at the time you didn’t put much effort into it. Later, you found out when you took the time to think about what you’re doing, you’re pretty damn good at both. You throw yourself into your work, choosing today to work on the computers, revamping your photos and doing some digital sketches. You’re so caught up in this that you almost don’t notice your Pesterchum icon flashing, signifying a new message. Clicking on it with mild curiosity, you see it’s not from one of your friends, but from a chumhandle you don’t recognize.

 

**tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 09:13 –**

**TT: Hello.**

**TG: who are you**

**TT: You don’t know me, but I know you.**

**TG: ok ill pretend you didnt say that and that wasnt hella creepy**

**TG: either way that doesn’t answer my question**

**TG: who are you**

**TT: I ride the bus with you every morning, but I expect you not to notice me. You have other things to pay attention to, don’t you?**

**TG: the fuck**

**TG: how the hell did you get my chumhandle**

**TG: im .3 seconds away from blocking you unless you tell me what the hell youre going on about**

**TT: No, don’t do that.**

**TT: You like John, don’t you?**

**TG: who the fuck is john**

**TT: The black haired boy you’re always staring at. You’re not as subtle as you seem, you know. Anyway, I am his acquaintance, as we share a literary analysis class together. I know you want to talk with him, you are pretty easy to read. Would you like my help?**

**TG: …**

**TG: youre not bullshitting me right now right**

**TG: i swear to god if youre lying ill find you and chop your tentacle dick off**

**TT: I am sorry to say I do not have a tentacle dick. However, no, I am not bullshitting you. You seem to find genuine interest in him, so I figured if you are not going to speak to him on your own, I could help move things along.**

**TT: It would benefit both of you. You would get to talk to the supposed man of your dreams, and he does not have that many friends to my knowledge.**

**TG: really**

**TG: thats surprising**

**TG: anyway**

**TG: so about those tips you were going to give me**

**TT: Of course. I’ll give you a crash course on the man that is John Egbert.**

**TT: This will not be very in depth, because as I stated previously, he is merely an acquaintance. I will tell you all that I know about him, and you may do with that what you will.**

**TG: ok**

**TG: go on**

**TT: He loves horrible movies. I believe he used to love the movie Con Air, but he might have grown out of that. His favorite subject is biology, which he seems to excel in. He is very interested in the supernatural world, and enjoys linking ghosts and science together. He has an affinity for pranks, which he is actually quite good at. They are very amusing. He has a sister named Jade, whom he is very close to, and whom I happen to be friends with. His favorite color is green and his favorite series of movies is the Ghost Busters trilogy. He’s very charming, and easy to talk to. Very bubbly and energetic, unless you get on his bad side.**

**TT: Tip: don’t get on his bad side.**

**TG: oh hey i know jade shes in my sketching class**

**TG: oh**

**TG: so thats how you know me**

**TT: Indeed.**

**TT: Now, I must be going. Good luck.**

**tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 09:37 –**

**TG: what the fuck just happened**

You shake your head, signing out of Pesterchum. Well. That was weird. That does not mean you won’t put her knowledge to good use, though.

That night you scour the web for the cheapest Ghost Busters shirt you can find. Finally, you find one for ten dollars, which jumps to forty when you pay for overnight delivery.

God, this better be worth it.

The next day, you board the bus, zip-up hoodie obscuring the Ghost Busters sign in the middle of your black shirt. You look around for the mystery person from yesterday, but no one stands out to you. Right before the bus pauses at his- John’s –stop, you pull the zipper down, showing your dorkiness and utter desperation to the world. You stare straight ahead, holding your breath as he boards. He notices you, takes a glance at his usual seat, before- oh my god holy shit he’s coming over to you he’s going to sit next to you-

You sit up straight, back much too rigid, as he takes a seat next to you, settling himself in. You breath seems to catch in your throat and Jesus Christ you’re going to die you’re going to die right now without even having spoken to him-

“Hi!” He says, voice bubbly and energetic, and your stomach drops at the sound. You’ve never heard him make a noise before. “Nice shirt.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck and goddammit Striders do _not_ blush. You stiffly turn your head in his direction and his smile wavers. Fuck, smile back, you idiot!

“Yo,” you respond, a beat too late. “Thanks. Nice face.” What?!

This time his smile does indeed disappear, and in its place a frown takes up residence. It’s almost a pout. God, this man will be the death of you. “Are you making fun of me?” He asks, all playfulness gone from his voice.

You resist the urge to shake your head violently and instead tilt it to the right. “No. I’m complementing you. You have a nice face, man.”

The tension drops out of his body and he offers another hesitant smile. “Oh. Well, thank you. I’m John. I’ve seen you around here a lot. Do you go to school here?”

He’s seen you around? He’s noticed your existence? Could this day get any better? Probably not. “Dave Strider. Yeah, I go to the art section a couple blocks down.” You lean back in your seat, and the gods must have some mercy because you feel your blush starting to fade.

“Wow, that’s cool! I’m not really into art myself. I’m majoring in paranormal sciences.”

You snort before look up to make sure he’s completely serious, and the only thing you can see in his face is his waiting for you to respond. “Seriously, dude? That’s a thing you can do?”

He crossed his arms, drawing his eyebrows together, but he still has a slight smile on his face, so you’re not concerned. “Yeah, it is! And I happen to be very good at it!”

You flash a smile his way, crossing your arms as well. “Really? I don’t doubt that, but… yeah, I kinda do. How can you be good at ‘paranormal sciences’? What do you even do?”

He pauses, considering how to answer your question. Finally, he just says, “It’s kind of hard to explain, and I’m getting off at the next stop anyway. Maybe you could tag along sometime and I could show you?”

You’re surprised you didn’t drop dead then and there. You wouldn’t have minded, actually; you could have died a happy man. “Yeah, sure,” you manage, not trusting yourself enough to say anything else.

“Awesome,” he says, ripping a piece of paper and jotting something down on it before handing it to you. “There’s my number. Text me and we can work something out.” The bus slows, and he stands up. “See ya!” He calls over his shoulder, exiting the bus.

 

\--

 

So, you text him. You wait the obligatory five hours before doing so, of course. You start to get a little nervous when he doesn’t respond within the first half hour. He’s busy, you tell yourself, which is probably true, but your brain isn’t listening to reason right now. He texts back right before you’re about to drift off to sleep, and you grumble at first, but brighten up the moment you realize it’s him.

You two talk for a good while, actually. It isn’t until 1:30AM when you finally put your phone down, having determined that tomorrow, on your off day from classes, he could show you around what he does. You pass out almost immediately from exhaustion.

The next morning goes per usual, aside from the extra ten minutes it takes you to figure out what to wear. After boarding the bus, you pick a seat with an empty spot next to it, eagerly awaiting John’s arrival. Not that you’d admit that. John boards, donning a backpack, swiftly sitting next to and immediately smiling at you. “Hey,” you greet, trying to keep the smile off your face even though it’s clearly evident in your voice.

“Hey!” He responds, smile turning into a grin. “So, you ready to explore the wonders of paranormal sciences?”

“Ready as ever.”

“Awesome. I have so much to show you…” he goes on to talk about how he’s going to be doing field work today, and you’re allowed to tag along to see what it’s like. “And don’t be too scared,” he adds, “I’m there to protect you from any ghosts.”

You give a cocky smirk in response. “Sure.”

The bus pauses at his stop, but he doesn’t move to get up. You glance at him confusedly. “Isn’t this your stop?”

“You pay attention,” he says, voice approving. “But no, like I said, we’re doing field work. We’re going to the edge of town to this abandoned house.”

“Are you fucking kidding me. This is like some corny movie, I’m a dame in distress and you save me from the scary ghost. This isn’t Scooby Doo, man, I don’t see no Great Dane around here.”

He laughs lightly. “It’s science, Dave!”

You spend the rest of the bus ride talking in hushed tones, chattering away from where you grew up to his distaste for baking (“you at least have to like frosting” “no it’s gross!” “that’s just plain unnatural), to where you want to be ten years from now. Neither of you know where you want to be, really, but it feels nice to talk about your fantasies for the future with someone else instead of thinking them for a change.

You two are the last people on the bus by the time John’s stop rolls around. You didn’t even know the bus went out this far, to be honest. It drops you off at the edge of a small town, small, local shops on either side of you. “C’mon, Dave,” John chirps, tugging at your arm until you follow after him down the sidewalk that seems to lead to nowhere.

Before long, the shops turn to fields, an occasional house dotting the area. You walk in a comfortable silence with John, shoving your hands in your pockets, and staring at the ground. The two of you must have been walking for at least half an hour before John stops, putting a hand on your shoulder, and you stumble, not expecting that. He giggles, and you frown.

“We’re here,” he says, gesturing at the house presently standing in front of you. It stood out from the other houses. It had a front door, barely hanging on the hinges. The walls were decayed, and you could clearly see the skeleton of the house, almost as if its boned were peeking through the peeling skin. It stands in stark contrast to the sunny day, seeming to create its own shadows. You look up to John who’s staring at the house, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. “I’ve never actually been here before,” he says conversationally. “ A couple of my research buddies have, though, and they said it’s awesome.” He begins walking towards it, and you somewhat reluctantly follow after. It has the cliché words ‘Do Not Enter’ carved out of the wood, which you rolled your eyes at and John totally ignored.

Going into the house is like stepping inside a movie set, complete with lights and all. Wait, what? Why are there lights in here? John sighed, approaching them. “Looks like the last people here didn’t clean up. Jeez, what assholes.” He grimaces, shaking his head, and moves past them into what you supposed used to be the dining room.

The absolute silence of the house, save for you and John’s footsteps, is making you uneasy. John seems to be as chipper as ever, almost to the point of whistling, as he looks around. “Y’know,” you start, and your voice doesn’t echo the same way the creaks from your steps were. You pause, giving that a moment to sink in. “For a haunted house, this place sure does seem an awful lot just like some abandoned building.”

John rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Dave. This place is the shit and you’re lucky to be here with me right now.” Well, there’s no sense in defying that statement.

Soon, John gets tired of wandering around downstairs, and decides to move to the upper floor. He goes into what looks like a musty old bedroom, taking his backpack that was previously slung over his shoulder and setting it down with care, unzipping it as if to not disturb its contents.

You follow after him, watching his movements with mild interest. After a minute of doing this, you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Setting up my equipment,” he responded absentmindedly. “This roop looks like a pretty good room.” After about ten more minutes of him fiddling around with expensive looking gadgets and you trying not to make your staring too obvious, he finally announces a victorious “Done!”

“Sweet,” came your reply, mildly amused at his enthusiasm. “What now?”

He began closing all the curtains around the room, blocking as much light as possible, then guiding you down to the floor to sit next to him, behind where he set up his equipment. “We wait.”

“Uh, for what?”

“Shhh! Just wait.”

So, you wait. You sit next to him, enjoying his company even in silence. The room is dark except for a glowing green monitor that John is watching attentively, green glow making his blue eyes seem almost turquoise.

After about an hour of this, you’re sore and dozing off, and when John suddenly jumps in his spot you almost yell in surprise. “Jesus Christ, what’s happening?” You angrily shout-whisper.

“I got footage of an energy ball!” He whispers back, face positively glowing in the dim light.

“A… what?”

He stares at the monitor for a couple more minutes before turning to you and responding in his normal speaking voice. “An energy ball. It’s when spirits stay in the afterlife in the form of condensed energy, to put it in simplest terms.” 

And in that moment, he looks so bright and happy and you want nothing more than for him to just freeze like this, stay like this forever, and you’re overwhelmed with these thoughts so you’re only have paying attention when you lean forward and-

Kiss him. 

**Author's Note:**

> YOU FRICKERS CAN DECIDE HOW JOHN RESPONDS I WORKED ON THIS THING FOR WAY TOO LONG IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 700 WORDS GOD FUCKIGN DAMN


End file.
